


A Guy Walks into a Bar

by 42hrb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bartender Derek, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, M/M, Musician Stiles, New York City, POV Derek, Post-Canon, Reunions, Student Derek, Tall Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/42hrb/pseuds/42hrb
Summary: The last person Derek expects to see on stage is Stiles Stilinski, but there he is, looking like sex and singing like it's what he was born to do.





	A Guy Walks into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to G for the beta. You're my hero.

There was something about New York that settled Derek Hale. Maybe it was the anonymity of it, maybe it was the friends he had made there when he and Laura had lived there, or maybe it was the way memories of Laura didn’t come tainted with blood. 

Or, maybe, it was who he was in New York. He wasn’t Derek Hale, exonerated murder suspect, former alpha, unwanted pack member. No, in New York he was just Derek, and he liked that. He liked being  _ Derek _ in a way that wasn’t tied to some tragic past that people constantly brought up. 

Even the friends that he’d had before going back to Beacon Hills didn’t look at him like he was broken or evil. They had all been sad to hear about Laura, they had all understood why he stayed away for the three years that he had been gone, and they had all welcomed him back with open arms. 

He had fallen back into his old life so seamlessly it was almost like the last three years hadn’t happened. Before he knew it, he had finally finished undergrad, and then, in the blink of an eye and many sleepless nights later, his masters in English. 

“So your PhD, huh,” Aria, one of Derek’s best friends in the city, asked from her seat at the bar where Derek worked part time. “You really want to  _ keep _ going to school?”

He rolled his eyes and handed her a Bud Light, “Yes.”

“You’d think that a master of English wouldn’t be so monosyllabic,” she said with a grin. He tossed the bottle cap at her, which she easily dodged. “Ass.”

“Shithead,” He shot back, looking at the few other customers. It was mid-afternoon on a weekday, not the busiest shift, but it had worked with his class schedule. 

“Whatever, you love me,” She said, “and I’m glad you’re going for your PhD. We should go celebrate tonight!”

“So, beers at your place?” Derek said with a snort. 

“I got tickets to some new band that’s suppose to be great,” Aria said, “tonight at The Bowery Ballroom.”

“Did Nikki bail on you?” Derek asked with a laugh. He knew Aria well enough to know that she had asked her girlfriend first and him second. 

“Fuck you, maybe I invited you first.”

“So yes, then,” Derek said, walking away from her to close out someone’s tab.

“I’ll meet you there at 8,” Aria said, finishing her drink and tossing money on the bar. “Don’t be late, Hale. I know where you live.”

Derek just laughed and tossed the money into the tip jar. By the time he left the bar a couple hours later, he was ready to lay in his bed for a while, but instead he showered, changed, made dinner, and headed to Manhattan. 

As promised, Aria was outside the venue with the tickets. “I don’t know anything about this band,” Derek said.

“Don’t worry,” Aria said with a smile, “I can fill you in.”

Aria was the morning DJ for one of the alternative radio stations, so she got free tickets to all the best shows and had the inside scoop on the bands.

“Okay, so fill me in,” Derek said, following her into the venue.

“They’re called Bad Moon, and they started while they were all at Boston College. It’s three guys and a really badass chick on drums,” Aria said. “Their song ‘Legendary’ is going to blow up on the alternative charts in the next two weeks, I can feel it.”

“And, because you have your press pass, we’re going to be right by the stage?” Derek asked as they ducked up to the bar and grabbed drinks before heading toward the stage.

“Got it in one, Hale,” She said with a grin, “and we’ll end up backstage after. You’re welcome.”

The opening act was a local New York band that Derek and Aria had seen a couple times before, usually opening at shows like this. They were good enough that Derek liked to get in early enough to actually seem them play. 

Bad Moon entered the stage without a lead singer, which was a little odd, but Derek figured it was some theatric thing. He figured the lead singer would come on stage in a cloud of fog or maybe with a drink.

What he didn’t expect was Stiles Stilinski to saunter onto the stage, decked out in jeans so tight on his clearly muscular thighs that it should be a sin, a black v-neck that hugged his broad shoulders and arms and accentuated his small waist, and a voice that was a little smokey and a lot intoxicating. 

“Isn’t their lead singer a stud?” Aria asked and then snorted at the flat look Derek gave her. “What? I’m gay, not dead.”

“Listen to the music,” Derek said, ignoring her to instead soak in the way Stiles jumped around stage and sang like it was what he was put on Earth to do. 

The entire show was magnetic and Derek spent half of it willing his dick not get hard because Stiles just took his fucking shirt off. From where he was standing, Derek could see scars along Stiles’ left side that probably lined up perfectly with someone’s fingers. He also had the phases of the moon tattooed up his spine and a tree over his heart. 

“You guys might have heard this one,” Stiles said with a wide smile, licking his lips. “We need to give a shout out to WKCY for playing this song before anyone else.”

“This is the song I was telling you about,” Aria said, sounding excited. 

Stiles voice sounded just as good on that song than it had all night, and honestly Derek thought he might be a little in love with the sound of him singing. He wasn’t sure what had happened to Stiles, or any of the pack back in Beacon Hills after he had left, but now he wanted to know.

It was like seeing Stiles had unearthed feelings for the man that he hadn’t let himself feel, even when he first started having them. He felt like his heart and soul were being laid bare as Stiles sang. He never wanted him to stop, but because Derek had never been one to get what he wanted, Stiles did stop. 

“We are Bad Moon and it has been amazing playing for you tonight,” Stiles said into the mic before putting it back on the mic stand and taking a bow. 

The crowd erupted into cheers and Derek felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest as Aria dragged him to the stage doors and flashed her press badge at the guard who waved them back, looking bored.

Derek hung back as Aria walked into the green room and hugged half the band, chatting animatedly. He stayed there until his eyes found Stiles, who was gaping at him.

“Holyfuckingshit,” Stiles said, as he ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair and looked at Derek like he was looking at a ghost.“Derek Hale, as I live and breathe.”

“Stiles,” Derek said with a nod, before he stepped forward and was pulled into a bone crushing hug. Stiles was  _ strong, _ and he was taller than Derek remembered. “You grew.”

“A bit,” Stiles said with a grin, then he reached forward and touched Derek’s hair. “I like your bun; you look like a real hipster.”

“Der, you know  _ Stiles _ ?” Aria asked, looking at them with a smile that meant trouble. “You didn’t tell me.”

Derek just shrugged. “It feels like it was a whole other life.”

“That it does,” Stiles said with a nod, leaning into Derek’s space like no time had passed. “I can’t believe you’re here. After Mexico - I never thought I would see you again.”

“Me either,” Derek said quietly.

“You look good,” Stiles said honestly. “Oh shit, right. Guys, this is Derek; I knew him in high school. Derek, this is Pete, Marco, and Kya. Uh, Derek, do you maybe want to get out of here and catch up? If you have plans, that’s totally-”

“Yes,” Derek said quickly, turning to Aria. “I’ll see you and Nikki at brunch Saturday?”

“Always,” Aria said, winking and turning back to the band.

They walked out the back door of the venue in silence, Derek leading them toward a coffee shop a few blocks over.

“This is weird,” Stiles said with a laugh, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lighting one up. “Isn’t it?”

“You smoking? Yeah, it’s a little weird,” Derek said, bumping Stiles’ shoulder with his own, “and you being taller, that’s also weird. But seeing you, that’s not weird. Unexpected, sure, but nice.”

Stiles let out a laugh and took a drag of his cigarette. “The smoking isn’t new; I picked it up in college. Nasty habit, I know, but being a musician is stressful.”

“What else is new?” Derek asked, waiting outside the shop while Stiles finished his cigarette and put the butt in a trashcan. “I want to know everything.”

“We might not have time for everything; I need to be at JFK by 7,” Stiles said, but he was smiling and Derek felt his stomach turn over. Somehow, Stiles had grown into every part of himself; he oozed confidence and charm in a way that Derek had always known that he would one day, but he hadn’t thought he’d ever get the chance to see it.

They each got a coffee and sat down at a table in a back corner, away from prying eyes. “So, music?”

“Yeah,” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, “it turns out I have a decent voice and a desire to not die in a supernatural crisis. This seemed like a good career option.”

“Sure, that makes sense,” Derek said with a laugh. “There was really no other option besides this.”

“Yup,” Stiles said, popping the p. “What about you, big city man? How’d you end up in New York? Last I heard, you were in Argentina with Cora.”

“I was, for a few months,” Derek said with a shrug, “but I wanted to finish undergrad and I have friends here from before; that’s how I know Aria.”

A flicker of confusion dashed across Stiles face before understanding seemed to set in. “So you and Laura lived here after - after the fire?”

“Yeah,” Derek said with a nod and a fond smile, “she had always wanted to live in the big city. Being here reminds me of her, of the good times. But we’re here to talk about you, Mr. Big Shot Musician. How’s the pack? How’s your dad?”

A sad smile pulled at Stiles mouth before he spoke. “Dad’s good; he’s retiring next year and I think I have him convinced to move out east. He’s just as surprised as everyone about my career choice, but he’s supportive as long as I don’t – and I quote – ‘start living that rockstar lifestyle’.”

Derek laughed, “So I’m guessing he doesn’t know about the smoking?”

“He’d kill me,” Stiles said with a laugh. “He caught me drinking when I came home for Christmas my freshman year of college and he sighed and looked so disappointed. It was actually pretty funny in retrospect.”

Derek didn’t push him on the pack; he figured it was something that Stiles would talk about when he was ready. Derek didn’t let himself think about how  _ that _ idea meant that he expected to keep talking to Stiles, to stay in touch with Stiles. 

In all honesty, Derek had never expected to see Stiles again in his life, but now that he had, he was mesmerized. He was entranced by the way Stiles’ hands moved when he talked, how his eyes lit up when he laughed, and how he seemed like he finally fit in his skin. 

They talked all night, until the dull gray light that came just before dawn started to stream into the coffee shop. “Shit,” Stiles said, looking at his watch and laughing, “it’s already 5.”

“Oh,” Derek said, standing up and walking out of the shop with Stiles, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“I wish we were in New York longer,” Stiles said, looking at Derek with a small smile, “but since I’m not, would you maybe  want to keep in touch? It kind of sucked not knowing if you were dead or alive the last couple years.”

“I’d like that,” Derek said, smiling as Stiles bumped shoulders with him. “I’ll get to say I knew you before you were famous.”

Stiles pulled Derek into a hug, tight and warm. “You’re just going to sell my secrets and tell everyone terrible stories about how awkward I was in high school.”

“Of course,” Derek said into Stiles neck, taking a deep breath, trying to memorize his smell so that he’d never forget it. “I’ll tell everyone I knew you back when you were running with werewolves and running into danger with a baseball bat as your weapon.”

“Ah, those were the days,” Stiles said, pulling back and squeezing Derek’s shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

“It was great seeing you Stiles, really,” Derek said as Stiles walked down to the subway. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”

“Me too,” Stiles said, turning around and walking back up the steps, hugging Derek again before jogging away, leaving Derek standing by himself. 

\------

Life went on as normal, or as normal as Derek’s life ever was. He still worked at the bar a few nights a week, he got an adjunct professor job, he started classed for his Phd, and Stiles called him at least three nights a week. That last part was a new addition to his regular life, but he wasn’t complaining about it.

He still had brunch with Aria and Nikki on Saturdays, and he still stayed up way past any normal person’s bedtime reading and working on his dissertation. His life was good, but it just felt like something was missing. 

“I heard you on the radio at the bar today,” Derek said one night, five months after he and Stiles had reconnected, his phone against his ear as he made dinner.

“Yeah? You miss me, Hale?” Stiles asked. Derek could hear the smile in his voice and he wanted to see it so badly. 

“Maybe,” Derek admitted, smiling himself. “When are you back in New York again?”

“Hopefully soon,” Stiles said. “We’ve got another month of shows scheduled and then we’re supposed to be off for a few months to record new stuff.”

Derek did his best not to let himself be disappointed; he missed Stiles so much, even if they had only spent a few hours together in the last six months. They had this connection that Derek couldn’t explain, but he felt it in his bones. 

“Well if you’re even in town, you know where to find me,” Derek said, stirring his pasta and switching his phone to his other ear.

“In the library, like the academic nerd you are,” Stiles teased. Derek heard the flick of a lighter and Stiles inhale. “Honestly, you’re going to end up on the history channel talking about Jane Austen or something and I’m going to be a washed up rock star; you’ll have to take care of me.”

“Oh, will I, now?” Derek asked with a laugh; they’d been doing the flirting thing for almost as long as they’d been having their phone conversations. 

“Mmm,” Stiles said, and Derek could see him, leaning against the tour bus smoking, his phone pressed to his ear. “I’ll be your stay at home trophy husband, taking care of the kids, and you’ll bring home the bacon.”

“Trophy husband? That’s pushing it, Stilinski,” Derek said with a laugh, “and I’ve heard about your attempts at cooking; I wouldn’t trust you not to set the kitchen on fire.”

“Ouch, I’m hurt, Hale; you’ve wounded my pride,” Stiles said with a laugh. “Oh shit, I’ve got to go, we have sound check.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Derek said, smiling to himself.

“You sure will,” Stiles said before hanging up, leaving Derek with his thoughts.

Derek ran his hand through his hair and stirred his dinner again, thinking about how easy it was talking to Stiles. Without even being in the same state as him, Stiles had made himself a permanent place in his life; his laugh was the soundtrack to Derek’s free evenings, his funny Snapchats the background to Derek’s slow days at the bar. 

It wasn’t just friendship, though, it was something more. Stiles was something beyond friend, but Derek wasn’t sure exactly  _ what _ they were.

\--------

Tuesdays were usually slow at the bar, so Derek brought his textbook to get some school work done between customers. He looked up as the bell over the door dinged and was glad he had set his book down, because Stiles stood in the door, backlit by the sun streaming in from outside. 

“I heard a joke the other day about a guy who walks into a bar,” Stiles said, walking over the bar and leaning casually, like it was perfectly normal for him to walk into Derek’s place of work after not seeing each other for almost six months. “So a guy walks into a bar and -”

Derek didn’t let him finish the joke; he leaned over the bar and grabbed the lapels of Stiles’ jacket, pressing their mouths together in a kiss. Stiles got with the program very quickly, his lips soft and pliant against Derek’s, his hand on the back of Derek’s neck.

“Should have done that six months ago,” Stiles said with a soft laugh when they broke apart.

“Yeah,” Derek said, kissing Stiles again gently. “How long are you in town?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Stiles said, a sly smile on his face. “Bad Moon is recording our first full album here in New York! It’s our new homebase; you’ll be seeing a lot of me. Well, if you want to.”

“I want to,” Derek said, looking Stiles up and down, over his broad shoulders and muscular legs, “I really want to.”

“Awesome,” Stiles said with a bright smile, his eyes on Derek’s neck, “Me too.”

“I get off at six,” Derek said as the bell dinged again and someone walked in.

“Then I’ll be getting off around 7,” Stiles said with a wink. “Text me your address, hot stuff.”

Derek groaned, but he smiled through the last three hours of his shift. He smiled as he took the subway back to his little apartment. In fact, he didn’t stop smiling until his mouth was otherwise occupied. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](exhuastedpigeon.tumblr.com)


End file.
